


all the wants (all the needs)

by shrdmdnssftw



Category: GOT7
Genre: Alternate Universe - Rock Band, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-30
Updated: 2015-05-30
Packaged: 2018-04-01 23:40:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4039048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shrdmdnssftw/pseuds/shrdmdnssftw
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Jaebum hates this - being half drunk near the back of a bar after what can barely be called a gig. They play for half an hour and are forgotten in half a minute, the moment the next band takes the stage.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	all the wants (all the needs)

**Author's Note:**

> Written as part of the [def-pepi exchange](http://def-pepi.livejournal.com/11617.html) for [xfragments](http://xfragments.livejournal.com), cleaned up and reposted here and on also on [LJ](http://shrdmdnssftw.livejournal.com/30096.html). 
> 
> Characters are aged up, Jaebum and Jinyoung are 25 years old.

“You’re kind of a loser, you know that, right?”  
  
“Shut up.”  
  
Jaebum hates this - feeling so out of place, being half drunk near the back of a bar after what can barely be called a gig. They play for half an hour and are forgotten in half a minute, the moment the next band takes the stage. He hates the drink in his hand but knocks it back anyway. It’s strong enough to burn, or maybe that’s just Jackson’s words.  
  
“Honestly, I’m worried for you, bro. How can anyone be so fucking self-destructive?”  
  
“Shut. Up.” Jaebum’s voice is terse and Jackson seems to get the hint, leaving him alone for a moment while he tries to chat up the bartender again.  
  
The level of noise rises as an act finishes their set and Jaebum is hit by a wave of unease, the sudden compulsion to _go_. He stands up, pushes himself away from the bar and towards the cover of the crowd but the motion has him dizzy and stumbling, and that’s _before_ an all-too-familiar hand reaches out to steady him.  
  
“Jaebum?” a voice asks and Jaebum shakes his head.  
  
It can’t be - shouldn’t. Jaebum must be drunker than he thought because it’s not possible for Jinyoung to have made it from the stage to the bar so quickly. Either that or he’s losing track of time again. It happens, sometimes.  
  
He probably should have expected it though - maybe _did_ expect it on some level, since he was rushing to leave. Maybe it’s chance or, more likely, something to do with Jaebum being, in Jackson’s words, self-destructive. Jinyoung has always headed straight for the bar after a set and if Jaebum had to bet on one band ritual for his old friend to keep, it’d be that.  
  
When Jaebum finally makes eye contact, Jinyoung is looking at him earnestly, eyes wide with surprise.  
  
“It _is_ you,” says Jinyoung.  
  
Jaebum manages to right himself in time for Jinyoung to pull him in closer, drink in his appearance like Jaebum is taking in Jinyoung’s. It’s been too long and it’s still too soon in Jaebum’s mind.  
  
Jinyoung looks the same. He looks good. His hair has grown out into a proper fringe, brushing his brows slightly, framing his face. The eyeliner he’s sporting is smudged and his lips look glossy, but that might just be the light. Jaebum shouldn’t be so aware of it all but he is. It’s like he’s a charged magnet, attracted to every aspect of Jinyoung as a current runs through him. It’s too easy to fall into this awareness but old habits die hard.  
  
Back when they’d been a band, when they’d been _something_ to each other, Jaebum had known Jinyoung back to front. No one should blame him for wanting to fall into the same familiar spaces.  
  
“You still drink your usual?” Jinyoung asks and Jaebum shakes his head.  
  
He’s not even sure what he’s doing - denying the situation or trying to clear his thoughts. Either way, it’s ineffective. Jinyoung still has a hand on his shoulder and a smile on his face and Jaebum wishes he could say _something_ , namely, “I need to leave.”  
  
“Water then,” Jinyoung suggests, like he can’t read the way Jaebum is itching to go. Like he’s never had a read on Jaebum in the first place.  
  
Jinyoung drops his hold to motion to the bartender and Jaebum slips out from his reach as two sets of eyes fall on them. Jackson will give him so much shit later but Jaebum’s glad he’s here now. By the time the bartender has handed over two glasses of water to Jinyoung, Jackson has an arm wrapped firmly around Jaebum’s torso and is eyeing a path out the door.  
  
It takes Jinyoung a moment to notice but when he does, his brows furrow, confused. “Are you going? Who is this?”  
  
“I’m leaving,” Jaebum manages to say. It’s an echo of their last proper conversation, not that he’d expect Jinyoung to remember.  
  
“ _We’re_ leaving,” corrects Jackson and he gives a curt nod to Jinyoung, not even introducing himself, before he starts a march through the crowd, guiding Jaebum away.  
  
A last glance at Jinyoung shows he’s still confused but that he’s not following and, well, it hurts, but Jaebum’s expecting it, almost.  
  
It’s only once they’re properly outside that Jaebum remembers to actively breathe. Jackson still has an arm around him and it’s comforting. Maybe he should give Jackson more credit, listen to his words.  
  
“You’re terrible,” Jackson says, and Jaebum thinks _maybe not_. “You’re lucky I’m around.”  
  
“Am I?” Jaebum says, tone skeptical. The _thank you_ is implied.  
  
“Yeah, of course.”  
  
They walk two blocks before Jackson stops to take out his phone.  
  
“I’ll text the others, let them know we’ve left.”  
  
He should probably feel guilty for forgetting that the others were still there but Jaebum's having trouble feeling much at all right now. Jaebum knows feels thankful for Jackson’s friendship. Feels lucky that someone else can take the lead when he’s caught up in his own head.  
  
He can feel the alcohol wearing off and the dread sinking in and then Jaebum finds himself wondering if he should have stayed to talk. Air out whatever they’d folded and hidden away. Get it out of their minds.  
  
Jackson’s looking at him, he knows. It’s not strange for Jaebum to get caught up in his thoughts but he’s tried to make sure it’s never been over _this_. Really, though, there’s a first time for everything.  
  
-  
  
The first time he ever kissed a guy, Jaebum got socked in the jaw.  
  
To be fair, the kiss came after the punch, and the punch came after he asked for it.  
  
Self defence practice with your best friend and band mate isn’t the best idea but Jaebum’s never been a strong thinker.  
  
His cheek had bloomed red and Jinyoung had started to apologise profusely, Jaebum conveniently _not_ saying how little it hurt. Jinyoung had pulled him in, the first time of many, and when Jaebum had turned to face his friend, they’d both acted startled by the brush of lips on lips.  
  
It could have been an accident, a moment waved away, flushed cheeks pinned down to punches, but then their hearts were pinned to sleeves and Jaebum had given himself away. He had leaned forward, curled his hand around Jinyoung’s neck to pull him in with more force than any of their punches.  
  
A messy kiss, too much pressure, too brash.  
  
That pretty much set the tone for their relationship, or whatever it was that they had. Complicated, forceful, short lived. The sort of mess that Jaebum just excels in.  
  
-  
  
Jackson calls three days later.  
  
“I was wondering if you were trying to give me space,” Jaebum mumbles into the phone. Waking up takes a lot of effort but Jackson's persistence always wins out, no matter how many times Jaebum rejects his calls.  
  
“Nah," replies Jackson, "it was Kangjoon’s birthday, had to help plan the party the last few days.” He sounds bright, brighter than usual, and Jaebum can tell he’s dying to get something off his chest. Sighing into the receiver, he sits up in bed, scrubs a hand over his eyes and waits for Jackson to get on with it.  
  
“Anyway,” Jackson says after a sufficient pause, “I got a call this morning and you’d never believe what it was about.”  
  
Jaebum grunts because, no, he probably wouldn’t.  
  
“We’ve got a spot on the tour,” and _that_ makes Jaebum perk up.  
  
“What?” There’s no accounting for Jackson’s embellishments so Jaebum wants a clarification, needs details, needs something to halt the flow of adrenaline that his body wants to flush through his veins.  
  
“Well, okay, no, we’ve got a chance,” Jackson says. Jaebum deflates. “But it’s almost definitely a spot. I _know_ we’ve got this. We already play more songs that any other band on the scene.”  
  
That doesn't necessarily mean they play well, Jaebum thinks to himself. To Jackson, however, he tries to be kind. “I’m glad you think we’re good,” Jaebum says. “I might need some more convincing though. Send me the details, Jackson, and I’ll figure out if we can do this.”  
  
He holds the phone away from his face as Jackson whoops down the line. His excitement is palpable. Sure, the band could probably strong arm Jaebum into attending an _audition_ \- of all things - but it’s easier when everyone agrees.  
  
Jaebum had given up on auditions three years ago. The last one he’d seen was for the members of his current band; he was the one assessing back then.  
  
“I’ll tell the others, too,” Jaebum adds, when Jackson has calmed a bit.  
  
“Yeah, sure, definitely! And, uh, I’ll message you the details,” Jackson says. His happiness is still bleeding into his words and Jaebum feels like he might smile. Later. After he’s had coffee and before he’s had time to regret his choices.  
  
He can tell he’ll regret this decision.  
  
-  
  
Mark is already in the rehearsal space, fingers splayed on the neck of his bass, when Jaebum arrives. He’s got Youngjae in tow, had swung by the bookstore to walk here together, and Jackson said he’d make sure Bambam arrived on time.  
  
Considering Jaebum and Youngjae are pretty much spot on time, they all know there’s probably another five minutes before Bambam and Jackson actually show up.  
  
“Hey Mark,” Jaebum greets.  
  
Youngjae pretty much tackles Mark in a hug, and it's enough affection to make up for Jaebum's brisker hello. Mark cracks and smile, holding his bass out of the way to hug Youngjae back.  
  
When they're done, Mark turns to Jaebum, watching as he sets up the microphones in their stands. "So, Jackson was saying-"  
  
"Always a bad start to a conversation," Jaebum comments, but his tone is fond. He stands up straight and looks Mark right in the eyes. "Let me guess - we're pretty much a shoe-in for the spot, he's picked out a song for us to play, and also, don't mention a certain Park Jinyoung."  
  
As Jaebum counts the topics off on his fingers, Mark nods.  
  
"You're uh, not meant to know the last one though," says Youngjae sheepishly.  
  
Jaebum sighs. “I’m an adult, in case you all forgot. I can handle old friendships. I can also handle the band, so if you’d like to remind Jackson that he’s _not_ actually in charge-”  
  
“I’m not?!” comes Jackson’s obnoxious voice and Youngjae’s smile widens. Jaebum always thinks Youngjae’s too easily pleased.  
  
“No, you’re not,” affirms Jaebum. “I am, at least for today, so you should probably listen to me.”  
  
“Yes sir,” Jackson says, standing to attention. Bambam trails in finally, closing the door behind him and guitar in tow. “Will do, sir.”  
  
“Stand down, Jackson,” Mark calls out. He’s started setting up the pedal boards, now that they’re all there.  
  
“What Mark said,” says Jaebum. “Set up your kit. We’re starting with _Bad Behaviour_ and not switching until you’ve broken a sweat.”  
  
The look Bambam shoots him is a little tense but Jaebum just returns a grim smile. “If we want it, _really_ want it, sweating is nothing in the long run.”  
  
-  
  
It’s so hot and they’ve both run out of layers to strip off. The sun is unforgiving, searing even through the windows, past the curtains they’d pulled shut against the world.  
  
Even the sheets are warm to touch, mussed up between Jinyoung’s skin and the mattress. This close, Jaebum can feel Jinyoung’s heat, see the sweat beading at his brow. The grip he’s got on Jinyoung’s wrists is slippery and mostly for show. Jinyoung’s holding himself in place, passive and so certain that Jaebum will give him what he needs.  
  
And Jaebum will because he always does. It’s a pattern now, a fallback that doesn’t even require thought. They crash into each other on stage and it’s a show, off stage and it’s a stage. Jinyoung’s voice cracks the same, when he’s on the top of a melody and when he’s under Jaebum’s body.  
  
Jaebum fucks into Jinyoung like it’s what he needs too. Like it’s just pleasure, all gain. Like every positive is in this touch and every touch is plus one point.  
  
One point higher, one degree higher. It’s scoring in more ways than one, more ways than his stupid brain can process with the heat. It’s so hot and Jaebum wants to think about this more but then Jinyoung is breaking out of his grip to reach down and jerk himself off, and that won’t do.  
  
Jaebum takes over; takes the lead again. Jinyoung lets him, like it’s his dream role, almost too neat a fit.  
  
“You first, I’ll follow,” Jinyoung had told him, before they walked on stage for the first time. Nerves making his hands tremble and Jaebum had clenched his own hands into fists to hide his fear. A firm nod and three strides had him in front of Jinyoung and the noise of the crowd had pulled them forward. Jaebum first, then Jinyoung followed. The first show, that had happened, then at the second, and by the fifth show, it was a _thing_. Their thing.  
  
“You first,” Jaebum tries. He runs his thumb over the head of Jinyoung’s dick, twists his fist over the spot that always makes Jinyoung’s hips jump. “I’ll follow.”  
  
But Jinyoung bites his lip and bears down, opens his legs wider for Jaebum, as if to see if Jaebum really means it. If he’ll let Jinyoung come first; if Jaebum can follow. A shift of hips and Jaebum slides deeper and Jinyoung tightens around him, bites back a whimper as his thought gets answered.  
  
Jaebum comes inside him, hips jerking staccato and Jinyoung waits until he’s fading into aftershocks before he tries to get himself off again. Jaebum first, and Jinyoung follows.  
  
-  
  
It’s not a proper show by any means, two songs to impress the judging panel, but Jaebum still takes it to heart when there’s not much of a reaction as they leave the stage. It’s already clear who the headlining band will pick. Now that Jackson thinks of it, an all female rock band does have some more pull. At least, those are the excuses he shout-whispers to Youngjae as they watch Jinyoung and another guy set up on stage.  
  
Jaebum leaves as soon as they take the stage, walls of the bathroom enough to block out at least some of the noise.  
  
Mark follows, is at the door when Jaebum’s finished pissing and has washed his hands.  
  
“You’re alright?” he checks and Jaebum shrugs.  
  
“It’s not too big of a deal,” Jaebum says. “There are other gigs we can get, I think Bambam was mentioning one earlier.”  
  
Mark looks at him sharply. “I wasn’t talking about the band gig and no one's mentioned the judge's favourite but alright then. Maybe you should try sorting out whatever's happening with the _current_ situation before thinking too far ahead.”  
  
It’s easy for Jaebum to forget how perceptive his band mates are when he’s closest to Jackson and in theory a closed book. Mark’s too good at extrapolating from the cover.  
  
“Yeah?’” Mark says, clapping a hand on Jaebum’s shoulder. “Think about it. You might be self-destructive but at least try to do repairs.”  
  
And that makes it clear that Jackson’s sharing spoilers but Jaebum can’t care for any of that because the door to the bathroom opens and Jinyoung is coming in.  
  
“Oh,” is the first thing that comes out of his mouth and Mark pulls back sharply.  
  
“I’ll let you two- I’ll-,” he steps towards the exit. “I’ll let you talk.”  
  
Then Jaebum and Jinyoung are alone again and Jinyoung looks at Jaebum.  
  
“Talk?” Jinyoung asks and Jaebum hasn’t got the strength or the drive to answer, tries to get past Jinyoung and ends up shouldering him, hard, on his way out.  
  
He can’t go back to the others straight away so Jaebum swings by the bar and orders a drink to throw back. It might burn on it's way down but it’s better than any words that might come up.  
  
-  
  
It's not long until Jinyoung confronts him about it outside.  
  
The building is small and the bar is smaller and it turns out that Bambam knows Jinyoung’s guitarist, Yugyeom. To his credit, Jaebum manages to ignore both Jackson’s glare and Youngjae’s curious gaze for a total of seventeen minutes after they all meet. At that point, Jinyoung invites him out to smoke and Jaebum figures he can only avoid it for so long. A few drinks have worked to loosen his tongue and go against his better judgement skills.  
  
Leaning against the brickwork, Jinyoung fumbles a hand in his pocket. Digs out a lighter and a pack of cigarettes, offers one to Jaebum. His face must say enough because Jinyoung just laughs.  
  
“Nasty habit, I know.” Jinyoung lights the cigarette, practiced and sure; takes a drag and it’s almost as if his whole self loosens with that one breath.  
  
“Where’d you pick that up?” Jaebum asks without thinking.  
  
“Somewhere along the line, I guess,” replies Jinyoung. “Same way you picked up a new band, I guess. Had to find something to waste my time.”  
  
It feels like a slap to his face.  
  
“Oh, that’s rich, coming from you.” Jaebum backs away from Jinyoung, cursing the way his body had gravitated to him. “I’d rather waste my time with them than waste my money on something that will get me nowhere.”  
  
Jinyoung seems to get what he’s saying, for once. He doesn’t reply for a while, just continues to smoke his cigarette. It’s enough time for Jaebum’s anger to seep a bit deeper, spread into more of his body, down to his bones. Enough time for the wind to push the smoke into his lungs, push Jinyoung’s scent along too.  
  
“I did get somewhere though,” is what Jinyoung finally says. “I’m here, aren’t I? Next to you again, like old times.”  
  
Jaebum wants to break. It’s not like old times. Old times weren’t so cold, even in the depth of winter. Old times didn’t leave either of them struggling to breathe, didn’t crush Jaebum’s chest like he can feel it being crushed now. He wants to break, tell Jinyoung off for what he’s said but that - well, that _would_ be like old times.  
  
They stand in silence instead, long enough for Jaebum’s anger to disperse through him fully, diluted by space and time.  
  
Jinyoung breaks the silence. “I’m sorry for talking to you again, the other week. I didn’t know you’d be so opposed to it.”  
  
“I’m not,” replies Jaebum, faster than he’d like. “I was just - I was surprised to see you there.”  
  
Jinyoung raises an eyebrow at him, _I won’t buy your bullshit_ written in the crinkles of his skin.  
  
“Right in front of me,” Jaebum clarifies. “It’s been a while.”  
  
Jinyoung nods at that, then burns out the rest of the cigarette in one deep drag. He stubs out the butt and drops it to offer Jaebum his hand to shake. “Can we try again maybe?”  
  
-  
  
He’s rinsing his face when Jinyoung walks into the bathroom. Jaebum thanks the gods for small mercies, that Jinyoung had put underwear back on, so at least neither of them are naked for the conversation that will inevitably come.  
  
Jinyoung slides himself into the space next to Jaebum, takes his toothbrush to use like it’s no big deal. It’s as if Jaebum fucked the actual sense out of him last night, rather than just fucked him like he asked. As if one night could erase months, years of radio silence. As if they’d _talked_ , tried to start again with words, rather than rough kisses and rushed journeys back to _this_.  
  
It’s almost tempting to stay, keep an eye of Jinyoung when he’s in Jaebum’s private space. There’s a voice in his head, though, one that sounds annoyingly like Jackson, that reminds Jaebum to have some self preservation. He opens a drawer to grab Jinyoung the toothpaste and then gets out of the way, nodding when Jinyoung mumbles a _thanks_.  
  
By the time Jinyoung is done, Jaebum has dressed again, sweats and a t-shirt. Jinyoung’s jeans have been retrieved from on top of the couch and Jaebum holds them out. _Get dressed_ goes unsaid.  
  
“We’re done already?” Jinyoung asks.  
  
“We need to actually talk about this,” Jaebum replies. “That will go better if we both are clothed.”  
  
Jinyoung looks at him, asks, “are you sure?” but drags the denim up his legs even as speaks.  
  
Jaebum watches the slide of fabric, the way Jinyoung’s muscles tense and relax. Eyes follow Jinyoung when he roots through Jaebum’s wardrobe, organised the same as before, and takes a shirt that is actually his from long ago.  
  
“Perfect,” Jinyoung says, mostly to himself and Jaebum coughs to grab his attention.  
  
“We really should talk, though.”  
  
“Oh, so _now_ you’d like to talk,” says Jinyoung, pulling the shirt over his head.  
  
“We’re both sober and I think neither of us are angry.”  
  
The bed dips when Jinyoung sits next to Jaebum. “Well, not right now,” Jinyoung agrees. “I haven’t been drunk for a while though. I think that one is you.”  
  
“Yeah, well. I haven’t been in good shape.”  
  
“I can tell,” says Jinyoung. “Look - I know I sounded insincere when I apologised last night but I mean it. I didn’t really know what to do so I just - did that.”  
  
“Pretended like nothing happened?” Jaebum says incredulously.  
  
“Pretended I’m not hurt,” says Jinyoung. He looks fiercely at Jaebum. “You can’t just show up with a new band like we weren’t something before that.”  
  
“ _You_ did that,” Jaebum retorts. “And we _weren’t_ something. At least, not something you ever wanted to label until it was over.”  
  
“What the fuck,” Jinyoung swears and Jaebum doesn’t know when he stood up from the bed or when they started yelling but he’s suddenly too aware of it. “We were a _band_ , Jaebum. A team, for god’s sake. I thought you knew that but when I realised you saw it as the Jaebum show, I left. Is that too hard to understand?”  
  
“Not the band,” Jaebum says. “Who _cares_ about the band. I cared about the band because I cared about _you_. You asked me to lead, so I did. And then you treated what we were doing like a hobby on the side.”  
  
Jinyoung stares at him. “I didn’t mean lead all the time. It just worked out that way.”  
  
“Like how we worked out to be this,” Jaebum says, voice dull. He’s run out of steam, out of breath, out of arguments. “I’m not sure what else there is to say.”  
  
“A lot,” says Jinyoung. “But maybe another time.”  
  
He sits down on Jaebum’s bed and motions to the space next to him.  
  
“Listen. It’s been years and, whether we like it or not, we have our own lives. I think,” and here Jinyoung pauses. “Maybe we should try again. To be friends at least. Or to talk.”  
  
“Every now and then,” Jaebum says, slowly. “Not constantly.”  
  
“Not with sex beforehand either,” quips Jinyoung and somehow it doesn’t seem too light.  
  
“Probably not, no.”  
  
“And,” Jinyoung says, “catching up with each other in general. It would be good to know what has happened since then.”  
  
It’s not much, Jaebum knows. Even before, Jinyoung has never asked for much. Jaebum had trained himself out of giving everything after the split but maybe the risk of being wrong and hurt is better than the risk of not giving anything at all.  
  
“Okay,” agrees Jaebum. “I can probably do that.”  
  
The smile they exchange is a hesitant one but definitely there and it’s only when Jinyoung notices the time that he gets up to leave. At the door, Jaebum wonders if he should offer his hand - if he’s willing to state that need, that pull that still exists. Jinyoung, though, takes the lead - gives Jaebum his hand to shake and Jaebum follows.


End file.
